


In Viata Asta

by DeamStellarus



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: (maybe), Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Eventual Smut, F/M, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Implied Sexual Content, M/M, Multi, Polyamory, Reader Can Be Any Ethnicity, Reader-Insert, Slow Burn, Violence, at least that's the goal, will probably add more tags later
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-01-16
Updated: 2020-02-06
Packaged: 2021-02-27 06:21:04
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 3
Words: 15,426
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22282519
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DeamStellarus/pseuds/DeamStellarus
Summary: It was possible you’d been on your own for too long. Maybe all you needed were two boys from Brooklyn to help you find yourself again.
Relationships: Clint Barton/Reader (platonic), James "Bucky" Barnes/Reader, James "Bucky" Barnes/Steve Rogers, James "Bucky" Barnes/Steve Rogers/Reader, Natasha Romanov/Reader (platonic), Steve Rogers/Reader
Comments: 22
Kudos: 111





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> So I started this fic last summer and I just got around to editing it, but I hope you guys like it. It starts in 2018, and we’re gonna ignore the main MCU plots after Age of Ultron (also Clint does have a secret fam but they’re his sister and nieces/nephews because it literally makes so much more sense). Definitely some canon-divergence. And I’m trying for a slow burn. Anyways... enjoy

_You struggled in the dark, kicking your legs as hard as you could, trying to get close to the light you saw at the surface of the water. Your legs were useless, your body felt like lead, dragging you deeper into the abyss. No matter how hard you tried, you couldn’t reach the top. Just a little more…_

_Then you saw his face, his eyes wild. And his hand reached out toward you. You stretched for it, your fingers grazing his. He tightens his grip around yours, sending you that nervous smile he reserved for when you were in desperate situations and he wanted to reassure you. Even when it was all going to hell. You felt a tug upward, your body being pulled toward the surface._

_Then there was a bullet hole in his forehead._

_His hold on you was gone. His eyes frozen wide open._

_You opened your mouth to scream…_

You gasped awake, jolting up in bed. Panting, your hand flew to your chest. Your eyes darted around the cabin, confirming it was another nightmare. You squeezed your eyes closed. _Ten, nine, eight, seven..._ an attempt to slow your heart rate. You shouldn’t be surprised at this point. You had the dreams often enough, your subconscious morphing the memory, each time more disturbing than before. 

When you could take full breaths again, you flopped back onto your pillows, staring up at the stars that peaked between the leaves through the skylight. You wished they could stop making such a common appearance in your nightly routine. Your sleep schedule was shit, and if you were being honest, it had long since taken a toll on you. 

Maybe your friends were right, a change of scenery might be just what you need.

* * *

A creak sounded from the front porch. Your head snapped to the door. It wasn’t exactly uncommon for the local wildlife to make an appearance on your front steps, curious about the structure in the middle of their forest and sniffing for food. It _was_ , however, unusual for creatures to come around in the middle of the night, they were more likely to come wandering through just before sunrise. 

Your eyes slid to the digital clock on the small nightstand beside your bed. The time confirmed your theory, still a few hours until daybreak - far too early for anything other than trouble. Another groan from the wood boards of the porch and some shuffling had you leaping out of bed and reaching for the knife next to the clock -- one of several knives you kept around the cabin. Through the windows, you could vaguely make out a few shadowy figures in the obstructed moonlight.

With the smooth blade in your hand, you slowly crept down the stairs leading from the loft and toward the kitchen drawer that held a couple hand guns; your blade hand poised and ready to strike when the time called for it. Your eyes never left the door. Your fingertips had just brushed against the handle of the drawer when you heard the quiet snitch of the latch and the door creaked open. 

You threw out of instinct. 

A hand shot out, catching the knife by the handle. With the door wide open now, the silhouettes became more distinct. You counted three bodies, but you couldn’t be sure there weren’t more surrounding your cabin. You took a step forward with your gun now in hand, fully intending to strike, until a sliver of color caught your attention. You squinted. The dim light made it hard to see but you’d recognize that copper hair anywhere. In fuller light, you suspected you’d see her signature smirk. 

“Is that any way to treat your friend, _zvezdochka_?” You let out a breath you didn’t realize you were holding. Flicking on a light, you made your way to your old friend.

“Fuck Tash, I’m sorry. I didn’t realize you were coming by.” You pulled her into your arms for a much needed hug. She jerked beneath you upon contact. That wasn’t normal. You released her, searching her for injuries. She had a large gash in her abdomen, and while the bleeding had stopped for now, it would have to be fixed immediately.

“Yeah, it’s a long story, Blue. Sorry we didn’t give you a heads up.” 

“I hate to be rude, but can we get out of the cold?” A voice said.

Just that quickly, you’d forgotten about the other two people in your company. A man with warm brown skin and a metal pack of some kind strapped to his back stood behind Natasha. Next to him was a man you’d seen on the news several times. The TV stations didn’t do the man justice. Captain America was in your cabin in the woods, and you were suddenly _very aware_ just how little you were actually wearing at the moment. You tugged at the hem of the over-sized shirt you’d stolen from Clint months ago.

“Sorry! Please, come in.” You ushered them passed you and locked the door behind them. 

“Guys, this is Blue. Blue, meet Steve Rogers and Sam Wilson,” Natasha said, setting your knife on the coffee table in front of the couch.

“Sorry about intruding, ma'am.” Captain America was apologizing to you. That's sweet. 

“Don't you worry your pretty little head about it.” That earned you a blush from the blonde. “And I'm far younger than you. 'Ma'am' is not necessary, Captain.” 

“Steve. You can call me Steve.” The pink on his cheeks spread down his neck, and if he were to take his suit off, you were sure his chest would be sporting the same rosy hue. 

“Fair enough. It’s nice to meet you both, and I would say it’s great to see you again, Tash, but it seems like it’s under… difficult circumstances.” Natasha waved you off.

“Minor shootout on a mountain. Nothing we haven’t done before.”

“Minor shootout, she says,” you scoffed. “You need to be more careful. Come on.” You grabbed her by the elbow and pulled her to the kitchen. “There’s a bathroom through the door on the right, if you guys want to clean up,” you pointed behind you.

You could hear the shuffling of their feet as they dispersed through your home for the past year. You made Natasha sit on a stool by the overhang counter, while you rummaged around in a cabinet for your first aid kit. You peeled the top of her suit down and pulled up the tank top she wore underneath. The large gash looked uglier exposed in the light but nothing you couldn't work with for now. You soaked a cotton ball with alcohol and wiped the area clean as gently as you could. She hissed upon contact but didn’t say anything. You slid a bottle of whiskey to her before you pushed the tip of some surgical thread through a needle. She took a swig and you started to sew up the wound. You could feel her eyes on you. When you were done, you smoothed on antiseptic ointment and covered it with a bandage. It would have to do for now. You turned to put the kit away and washed your hands. She still hadn’t said anything to you. You sighed.

“I can practically hear you thinking, you know.”

“I see your aim hasn’t changed, _zvezdochka_.” Here it comes. It was only a matter of time. “You could be putting your skills to good use.”

“Natasha, _khvatit_. We’ve been over this. I’m not going back.” 

You slid a cutting board from its place along the wall before gathering ingredients at random. You quickly diced an onion and minced a couple cloves of garlic, sautéing them in a saucepan on the stove, before pouring in a couple cans of crushed tomatoes. A bit of tomato paste, along with oregano, salt, pepper, and a couple of bay leaves, and you had your go-to sauce mostly done. You gave it a stir and covered it, bringing down the heat to a simmer when it showed signs of boiling. You glanced behind you when you hadn’t heard anything from Natasha. She looked frustrated, her brows furrowed, but held her tongue. You pulled the cork on a bottle of sweet moscato and poured her a glass, replacing the whiskey bottle in front of her. 

“Look, it has nothing to do with you. You know I love you and I miss you and Clint. I actually just texted him yesterday but he hasn’t responded yet.”

“Yeah, he’s on an op in East Asia right now.” She paused. “You should see his hair, he uses more product now than ever.” Her tone was light, the previous topic dropped for now. You chuckled, Clint had always used heavy amounts of hair gel. You’d teased him endlessly about it once upon a time. 

“Hey, can you go tell your friends there are some of Clint’s old shirts and maybe a few pairs of sweats that might fit in my dresser, if they want to change. This’ll be ready soon.”

“Sure.” You flinched at her closeness, not expecting her to be so close to you. She pecked your cheek and threw her arms around you, squeezing you as she would have before, had she not been freshly injured. She released you and sauntered out of your kitchen, leaving you to your thoughts. In another pot, you filled it with water, then set it on the stove to start heating it up. 

Your mind wandered as you waited for the water to boil. You didn’t miss that Natasha hadn’t told you where the three of them had been on their mission. Nor why they’d been on a mountain in the first place. In all fairness, she didn’t have to, _couldn’t_ if she were following S.H.I.E.L.D. rules. 

But it did make you nervous. You doubt anyone would have followed them to your location in the middle of the thick wilderness in northern Washington. But then again, they had been near enough your location that Natasha thought your safe haven of a cabin was the best option. That unsettled you, but she wouldn’t have given up this location if it wasn’t absolutely necessary. You were going to have to keep a look out if there were _unsavory_ people in the area.

The water started to boil, so you threw in a few dashes of olive oil and some salt. You felt the presence of someone behind you as you dumped the linguine into the bubbling water. 

“You know, it’s not polite to stare, Captain.” 

You peeked over your shoulder. You’d only just met him but making _America’s Golden Boy_ blush was becoming your new favorite hobby. His face had been cleaned of dirt and the few cuts on his face were already healing. Must be that super soldier serum you’d read about. He was wearing an old white t-shirt that was definitely a size or two too small, and a pair of sweatpants that you were certain would show off his ass _nicely_ if he turned around. And yet, he looked far more relaxed than he’d been when he first stumbled through your door.

“I, uh... thank you, for letting us crash here,” he stuttered. You gestured to the bar stool Natasha previously occupied and he sat down. 

“It’s not a problem, Steve. Anything for the friends of Natasha and Clint.” You took the lid off the sauce. Steam billowed into your face as your stirred. 

“How do you know them anyway?”

“Ah ah, that’s a story for another time, Mr. Rogers. Now, do you want cheese on your pasta?” He smiled and nodded. You handed him a slicer and a block of parmesan after you showed him how to make cheese curls.

By the time Natasha and Sam stepped into the kitchen, the two of you had just finished filling the bowls around the table.

“Mmm, something smells amazing,” Sam said. He, too, looked more comfortable out of his combat mission-wear. He landed heavily into the chair next to Steve at the table, a strong contrast to Natasha's elegant descent next to you.

“It should be. It’s one of my go-to recipes. I hope you like it.” You pushed a bowl in front of him. He all but inhaled the first few forkfuls, switching between moaning and taking in sharp breaths from the heat of the food. 

“Girl, this is amazing.” You nodded your appreciation. To Natasha and Steve, he said, “Can we keep her?” Your cheeks warmed. Natasha smirked. 

“Maybe if you ask nicely.” 

Her eyes were playful. She seemed much better from the last time you’d seen her around Christmas. Natasha and Clint had been brief in their visit, having stopped over long enough to bring you a few gifts-- a fuzzy blanket, thick socks, and a beautiful new knife-- before leaving abruptly for another mission they couldn’t miss. She had been tense then, frown lines gracing her face. Observing her now, there was a certain slack visible in her shoulders, and the creases in her forehead had given way to smile lines around her mouth instead, faint as they were. She was still beautiful as always though, still your pseudo big sister. 

“Maybe I’ll come visit New York soon, Bird Man.” You bit back a laugh at his outrage at the nickname. 

“Has she been talking to Barnes? Geeze, can’t catch a break,” he grumbled.

“Sorry, I don’t have a great filter sometimes. But you are the Falcon, right? It’s fitting.” You shrugged. “Suppose I can think of something else if I’m not being original enough for you.” Sam just rolled his eyes.

“This really is great, ma’- ah… Blue?” Steve’s comment came out like a question.

“Yeah, Clint’s nickname for me. Blue Moon, like the ice cream? I had blue hair when we met. I kept it up for a while and the nickname stuck. Everyone used to call me that.” You shrugged. “I guess I’ve gotten used to it.”

Steve nodded. You finished your pasta and rinsed the bowl in the sink. “Anyway, I’m sure you guys are exhausted. There’s not a ton of room here, but a couple of you can take the back room, the bed should be big enough for two. And my loft is available, if you don’t mind a little climb, just watch your head. There are extra blankets and a couple pillows in the linen closet. Please make yourselves at home.”

“What about you?” Steve asked. 

“Don’t you worry about me, Captain.” You knew you weren’t getting sleep any time soon, the small couch in front of the fireplace calling your name. “I’ll be just fine.”

* * *

They didn’t fight you on it. Two hours later, Natasha and Sam were cuddled together in the bed in the back room. You found that interesting and made a mental note to bring it up with her later. Steve on the other hand was curled into your bed in the loft. The low ceiling made him look like even more of a giant within the small space, especially with your favorite plush blanket draped over him. From your place on the couch, you could see half his face behind the slotted railing of the loft. Even asleep, it seemed like he carried the weight of the world on his shoulders. At least you could allow him this reprieve. 

You tiptoed to the side door a few minutes later, a fresh mug of tea in your hand. You were careful not to wake Steve up as you slowly slid the door open, softly latching it behind you. You sat on one of the chairs on the deck, settling in for your morning routine. Clint had told you the reason he chose to build the cabin in its current location was for the view. He couldn’t have been more perfect in his choice. The cabin sat on the edge of a small lake in the middle of a thick forest that butted up against a range of mountains. You’d learned the best part of your nightly predicament was being awake to watch the sunrise over the water, the beams of light breaking through the gaps in the leaves of trees and the crevices of the mountains. The reflection of the morning sky colors in the ripples of the water were beautiful. It seemed this view was the only version of a body of water you appreciated, from a distance at least. You weren’t jumping in anytime soon. 

You sipped your tea as the warm hues spilled over the horizon. The forest started to wake up, birds doing their morning calls and squirrels and rabbits scurrying over the forest floor. The breeze picked up a bit. It rustled the leaves and caused shallow waves in the water in front of you. Mornings were definitely your favorite, if only because they were always slow and peaceful here. 

“That’s a gorgeous view.”

You whipped your head to the intruder. Steve leaned against the door frame. Orange and red tones lit up his face like a painting. He wore a small smile. He was beautiful in this light. You looked back to the lake.

“Yeah, it really is. Best part about this place. Sorry if I woke you up. I tried to be quiet.”

“Nah, it wasn’t you. Honestly, didn’t even hear a thing. It’s just my internal alarm clock. I’m used to getting up and running first thing with the sun, and believe it or not, I never get used to the different time zones.” You hummed and nodded.

“So when do you guys have to leave?”

“Tired of us already?” Steve teased.

“No.” Truthfully you weren’t. You were bracing yourself for when you’d be alone again. “Just trying to plan ahead. Maybe I’ll make something for you guys for the trip back.”

“Oh...” He was silent for a moment, his face unreadable. “You could come back with us, you know. If Clint’s half as happy to see you as Nat was, it seems like it’d be a great reunion. Plus, you could meet the team.” 

He had a point. You _did_ miss Clint, and you had wanted to go back and visit New York again. You supposed meeting the famous Avengers would be interesting. If not daunting. But that would mean putting yourself in range of Fury and you weren't ready for that yet. “I’ll think about it.”

“Fair enough.”

"Would you like a cup?" You raised your mug in his direction.

"I'm alright." His smile sparked made you feel the warmth you wished the sun would give off.

"Well have a seat at least. You're making me anxious." 

He plopped into the chair beside you, his long legs stretched out in front of him. His elbows propped on the arms of the wood lounger, his interlocked hands resting on his stomach. He flash you another small smile and looked out toward the water. You took a moment to really study him. 

You weren't stupid- you were well-aware how much the media wanted Steve- no, _Captain America_ \- to be portrayed as flawless and perfect. And in every instance in which you'd seen him on a screen, he was. In person, the reality of what he must go through, not only as an Avenger, but as a national icon, is ever apparent. There’s a line in his forehead, as if it’s constantly creased, which is plausible. The fine lines around his eyes revealed his weariness, and at the rate you guessed he’s constantly in missions, it made sense. 

"You know, it's rude to stare." Blue eyes flicked to yours. 

"Yeah well, I don't have a lot of company." You took another sip of your tea, now definitely too cool for your liking. "But can you blame me? I'm in the presence of a celebrity." 

A corner of his mouth tucked up. 

"Yeah yeah."

"Still watching sunrises with blondes, I see?" Natasha's head poked out on the sliding door, Clint's old sweatshirt hanging off one shoulder. 

"Still too nosy for your own good, I see?" You quipped back. She grinned at you, looking younger than you've seen her in a while.

"Of course, _zvezdochka_." She winked. You sighed, standing up.

"I better get some coffee started and then I'll head into town if you all will be staying for a while. Not exactly equipped to feed superheroes."

"I can go with you." Steve got his feet, stretching his arms over head, the action lifted his shirt just enough to give you a glimpse of his well-toned abs. He practically towered over you.

"Erm, are you sure? It's over a half hour drive into town." 

"Well, it wouldn't be right to let a dame like you do all the work while we're crashing with you unannounced " He sounded so genuine. It must be some of that 40′s charm and etiquette Natasha had told you about. 

"If you're sure then."

* * *

That's how you ended up driving down the winding roads together with trees and steep drop-offs on either side. Steve flipped through station after station of static on the radio before you took pity on him and switched on an indie rock CD. 

"There aren't many radio stations out this far so it's hit or miss when we're close enough to catch anything."

He hummed, nodding along to the music, and watching the trees rush by. He had a far off look in eye. You let him be, content with the silent company for now. Who knew how long it's been since he's had time to just think without being needed.

You pulled up to the general store in the closest town almost forty minutes later. There weren't many cars in the lot, but there hardly ever were. You bit your tongue when you saw Steve had donned a discarded cap from the back seat. If he thought that would disguise him, he would be sorely mistaken. Or maybe not. To be fair, there weren't a lot of people in this town, and even less were likely to recognize him at first glance.

A couple teenagers stood behind the registers near the entrance, popping gum and flirting most likely, from the blush on the girl's face at least. You grabbed a cart, Steve following closely behind you. You passed an older woman in the produce section, tossing items in as you went by. 

"Is pick up soon or should I get stuff for dinner too?" When there wasn't a response, you turned around. Steve was helping the woman grab the parsley off the top shelf. He was so genuinely nice, it was so easy to see him as the national icon you assumed most people learned about in school. You shook your head and continued down the aisles. He could catch up; it's not like there was too much area to cover if you got separated. You nodded at a man in a black jacket nearby when you made accidental eye contact, and made a beeline to the cereal aisle. The decision to treat yourself to sugary cereal was too great, especially since you had no self-control and it was always the first to run out at home. You reached for your favorite brand, going up on your toes to grab it off the top shelf. Before you could though, a hand settled on your lower back and Steve pulled the box from the shelf effortlessly. 

He smirked, dangling the box in front of you.

"Thanks." You rolled your eyes, snatching the box from his grip. He chuckled behind you as you shuffled down the aisle. 

"You looked like you were going to climb the shelves." 

" _I would have_. I usually have to-" You stopped abruptly. Steve stumbled into you. The man at the end of the aisle was watching you. No, blatantly staring at you.

"Blue?"

You ignored him in favor of the man. The staring wouldn't have bothered you on a normal day; you don't come to town often so people tend to be nosy and keep an eye on the outsider. But the hair on the back of your neck was standing on end and you had a sinking feeling in your stomach that your casual day with new friends had come to an abrupt end.

"Blue?" 

"How many people are near the exit?" You said in a quiet voice. Steve tensed beside you. He finally looked to where your attention was drawn to at the end of the aisle. "None at the moment."

"The old lady?" You murmured, backing up slowly when a second man, the one in the black jacket you had just passed, rounded the corner to stand next to the first man.

"Two lanes over by the soup." You were thankful his height gave him the advantage to see over the shelves. 

"We're going to have to make a run for it if we want to keep the civilians safe. Creep and Creepier are definitely packing." You let go of the cart, reaching into your hoodie pocket for your car keys. 

"On three, we make a break for it," Steve said. "One-"

"Three!" You turned on your heel and took off toward the entrance, Steve serving as a human shield behind you when a gunshot sounded. How you wish he'd brought his official one with him. The glass of the door shattered in front of you but you barreled through, holding your arms over your head for cover. Dodging bullets, your raced to your Jeep. You jumped in and shoved the key in the ignition, taking off before Steve even had the door closed. 

"How did they recognize me so quickly?" Steve gasped. He turned around in his seat, eyes on the road behind us. You rolled your eyes.

"Right, because a baseball cap is going to disguise your six-foot-plus frame in a town of less than a hundred people. Sure." You glanced in the side mirrors. A grey SUV followed you. Raindrops crashed against the windshield. "Fucking great," you muttered to yourself. You needed a plan. Well you had a plan, but it was going to be more difficult than necessary if the clouds were any indication of the water they held. "Steve, the glove box."

He gave you a quizzical look but did as you asked and pulled out the gun you kept stashed there. He rolled down the window, rain pelted his face as he leaned out the window. He took aim and shot at the SUV. They swerved on the road, attempting to avoid the bullets but Steve was able to hit a tire and the SUV made a hard turn into a large tree. 

You let out the breath you’d been holding. That much fuckery without substantial food in your system was definitely bringing your mood down. But you couldn't deny the rush of adrenaline that coursed through your veins.

"Romanoff," Steve spoke into his watch. "I've been made. We're on our way back now."

"Fuck," you breathed. "Can’t catch a break, huh Cap? That was obnox-"

You didn’t even see it coming. The hit to the passenger's side caused the car to flip and roll several times, eventually rolling you over the edge of the road and down a steep incline. You closed your eyes and braced against the handle grips on the door and the steering wheel. Every impact of metal to pavement and forest floor jarred your body. 

Then the airbag deployed and the world shut off.


	2. Chapter 2

“-ue! Damnit.”

Everything hurt. That much you were certain. The burning, _throbbing_ pain all over gave you the heads up you weren’t dead. At least you hoped you weren’t dead. Your body felt strained and tight, a distinct pressure in your head. You could feel how your body twisted in a weird position, but trying to move your limbs was futile. As far as you were concerned, they were made of lead and took too much energy to even think about moving. It felt as if your head was underwater. Captain America’s voice cut through it all, followed by… a car horn?

“Blue, open your eyes!”

It took everything in you to obey. You blinked rapidly against the sudden brightness. When your vision cleared, distressed blue eyes met yours. He breathed a sigh of relief when you obeyed.

“Fuck, thank you.”

“That’s a helluva mouth you’ve got, Captain,” you croaked. Your throat hurt.

“Don’t believe everything you see on TV,” he sassed. “We gotta get you out of there. They’ll be after us in a minute.”

You nodded, or tried to. The seatbelt cut into your stiff neck. You were upside down hanging from the seatbelt that probably kept you from flying through the decimated windshield. You looked back at Steve, realized he was outside the car, kneeling at your window. Slowly, you unhooked your seatbelt and slumped to the ceiling of the car, his hands softening your impact. You tried to reach out to take his hands to pull you, but your left arm wasn’t responding as normal and you realized your shoulder must have been knocked out of place in the crash. 

“It’s dislocated. I can’t pull myself.” You took in a sharp breath. It _hurt_ , but you didn’t have time to waste.

“Hold still and brace yourself. I’ll get you out.” 

You locked your arms the most you could before Steve’s strong grip pulled you out of your destroyed Jeep swiftly. The rain was full force now, the trees doing little to shelter you as raindrops pelted your skin. You heard shouting a ways behind you. You groaned and got to your feet with the help of Steve. 

“You have to push it back in,” you yelled to Steve over all the noise. Fuck, this was going to suck. But you were out of options, and realistically you couldn’t do much if you didn’t have full motion in all of your limbs. You slowly pulled your soaking wet hoodie over your head, gingerly guiding it down your injured arm, leaving you in your t-shirt. Which wasn’t the best move considering the weather but it was necessary to give him access.

“Right now?” Steve looked hesitant.

“Yes!” You leaned impatiently on your flipped car. You didn’t have time for second-guessing. “You have done this before right? Just brace your arm on the- FUCK!”

Steve’s execution was swift, taking advantage of your running mouth as a distraction. The breath was knocked out of you. With your arm in place, however painful, you started forward, stumbling on slightly wobbly legs. Steve caught you by your waist.

“Thanks,” you muttered. The rain came down hard, visibility was shit now. You would be surprised with the sudden change in weather from the morning but with the events of the day so far, it seemed fitting. Mother nature's cruel joke.

“I would say anytime but…”

“Yeah yeah.” You weaved between trees, putting distance between you and guns that were thankfully doing more damage to the trees than you. “There’s a river up ahead. We can probably lose them at the bridge that goes over it. Maybe even ambush them? Wish I still had my gun...”

“Sorry! I wasn’t planning on losing it.” His apologetic expression morphed into a smirk. “Just like I wasn’t planning on being attacked in a small town general store.”

“Pfft,” you scoffed. “You probably drag the trouble with you everywhere you go.”

“Now you really _do_ sound like Bucky.”

“I’m going to have to meet Mr. Barnes then. Apparently we have so much in common.” The river was directly in front of you at this point, the wooden bridge a little ways north. The rapids were in full-force now though. It would be a real bummer to fall in, so you made sure to keep a decent distance away from the edge of the ravine, where it was usually pretty slippery with mud.

Steve was not as lucky.

You heard a yelp, then were immediately yanked down with him as he tumbled down the muddy slope. You saw his hand jut out to try and slow your descent but the effort was futile. Soon enough, you hit water and the current dragged you under.

You were knocked around, your feet trying desperately to find purchase on something, _anything_ , to possibly slow down. Your lungs burned at the effort to hold your breath but you were going to have to get some air soon. For your first time back in a body of water since the incident, it could be better. The only thing that kept you mildly sane and slightly out of panic was how Steve was still holding your hand. His strong grip tricked you into feeling marginally safer. Because he was Captain America. You normally prided yourself in knowing what to do in emergency situations, but you were only human. If anyone knew how to get out of a sticky situation, it would be him. Your head broke the surface for a brief moment. You gasped, inhaling water and air simultaneously. Your lungs burned and you started coughing.

“Try to get to an edge!” Steve’s voice was almost swallowed by the roar of the water. “We need to get to shallow water if we even have a chance of getting out!”

You agreed, but you didn’t want to open your mouth for how much water was sure to flood your body if you did. So you squeezed his hand tighter, hoping he would understand its meaning. You felt a tug and then his grip loosened. Too much. You gripped as tight as you could as you fought your way above the rapids. You could barely make out Steve’s face. His eyes were closed, and there was red on the side of his head. Fuck. His head must have hit a rock. 

You moved without thinking. You struggled but eventually got the majority of your body under his, barely able to keep his head above the water, your body struggling under his weight. You wrapped your legs around his torso best that you could, and kept an arm around his chest from behind, lifting a bit under his armpits. His massive form blocked you from seeing anything besides the cloudy sky above you and the water whipping past your face. 

You felt a shift in the current, the water seeming to speed up. Against your will, you were rushed over a series of cascades. The thing nobody really thinks about with rivers is how many sharp rocks are involved. You let go of Steve with one arm to wrap it around the back of your head, trying to protect it, lest you too get knocked out and you both drown to your deaths. Natasha would be _pissed_. For every bump you went over, your back and arm were scraped and slashed by the daggers under the water. At one point, you almost let Steve go, the continuous sharp pain becoming too much. But you didn’t. You _couldn’t_. 

One final rough scrape over an edge and your bodies went airborne briefly. 

Then you were in smooth waters. You poked your head above the surface, finding you were in a natural pool of sorts. You unlocked your legs from around Steve’s body. You kicked toward the edge of the water where you could see a natural entrance to the pool. Your foot grazed the rocky bottom and you've never been happier to have touched something even remotely solid. You dug your heels in and dragged Steve to the edge but you realized your problem when the water only came up to your waist and you almost collapsed under his weight. He was over six-foot-three and very much all muscle, and _very wet_. And you hadn't worked out consistently in… years. Without the water to help float and carry his body, you struggled to pull him to land.

You got out and gripped him under his shoulders, dragging him across rocks, albeit smoother than the ones under the river. It was like pulling a truck across sand. Maybe you were a bit dramatic, but his body was _that_ heavy. Your muscles screamed at you, your injured shoulder felt like it was on fire, until you made it far enough up the bank so his feet were barely touching water, laying him down as gently as you could before dropping in exhaustion beside him. But you couldn't rest yet. You panted as you crawled to hover over Steve's body. Two trembling fingers to his pulse relieved you to know he was alive, but his light breath in your ear confirmed it. 

You gingerly laid next to him on your side. The slight brush of the stones to your back made you wince. As an afterthought, your hand flew to your neck, fingers searching for your necklace. You found the thin chain easily enough, but you didn’t relax until your fingers grazed the oddly shaped pendant. Your thumb smoothed over the center gem a few times. 

As the adrenaline faded, the reality of your situation set in. You gulped the air, your body shivering as it went into shock. Just like all those years before, you were practically paralyzed in fear. So you did what you could at the moment. 

You closed your eyes and waited for it to pass.  
  
  


* * *

  
  


It was warm. That was your first thought. It felt like a decade had passed since you were warm or dry, but now you were both. The rain had stopped; the sky was still overcast, but now it was definitely less threatening. A few feet away, Steve poked at his watch, now off his wrist and in his hand. His brows were furrowed, his lips formed a grim line. You rubbed your eyes, the motion catching his attention.

"Hey, glad to see you're awake." His eyes softened as they landed on you. You went to sit up but the action was immediately shot down.

"No hey, you probably shouldn't do that." You tried to anyway. Your back felt on fire from the effort, the pain so bad you were sure you looked like a fish with your mouth gaping open and shut. "Or at least let me help." 

His firm but gentle grip on your shoulders guided you into a sitting position. Your vision spun at the motion and you pressed a hand to your forehead, a hood falling from your head. You realized you had his hoodie on, which probably kept you from freezing out here except…

"Aren't you going to catch a cold like that?" He was down to the borrowed t-shirt and sweatpants. While the rain had stopped, March in Washington state in the mountains wasn't exactly t-shirt weather.

"I run a bit warm. I'll be alright." He smiled, sitting down beside you.

"Stupid super soldier serum." His arm went around your shoulder, pulling you into the warmth of his body. Maybe not so stupid after all. You savored the warmth, curling into him a bit more. He stared at his watch again, looking thoroughly annoyed. And you… you were in pain, but stubbornly ignoring it, before you'd have to inevitably move again.

“Got somewhere to be, Cap?” You broke the silence. He looked at you confused, so you nodded to the device in his hand. “You’ve been glaring at that thing for a while.”

"Stupid watch,” he grumbled. “It’s Stark-tech I was hoping it would either show us our location or at least let me get in contact with someone. But it got messed up on the way down here.” Sure enough, the screen is cracked and dark. “I'm not gonna lie, not quite sure where we are. Nor do I have the desire to come back the way we came."

"Yeah, our best bet is to head downstream from here," you said. A creak forked off to the side of the natural pool; you bet you'd find at least some trail signs to get you back on track to somewhere. You’re sure you’d find a road to a town eventually. Either way would take too long. At the very least, those men weren't following you anymore. A bright side to a rather cold and dim reality.

Abruptly, Steve's arm left your shoulder and he got to his feet, taking the warmth with him. 

"We should get moving. I realize we're just sitting ducks here. Who knows who could be watching us, or what animals we might run into," he said, glancing around. "This seems like a prime drinking spot for wildlife, and I'd rather not be eaten by a bear."

You rolled your eyes. "A bear is not going to eat you. There are hardly any more bears in this area at least; they've become an endangered species. There's a crazy low population that still reside here." It was true, though you had seen a lone bear on the farthest point across the lake behind your cabin just before the winter hit. Not that you were going to mention it to him. “Besides, it's the moose that you need to look out for." 

Steve's eyes were wide when he answered. "Moose eat people?"

"What? No!” you snorted. “But they're huge, and you'll be scared shitless if you come across one unexpectedly.”

“I’ll take your word for it.” He held out a hand for you. “Need a hand getting up?”

“Sure, thanks.” You held on as he hauled you to your feet, the power behind is pull stronger than necessary, as the momentum kept your body going and your hands flew up to brace yourself for impact and stumbled into his chest. His very big, broad, warm chest. This close up you could see the flecks of green in his eyes. 

Pretty. He was much too pretty.

You tried to take a step back and almost fell on your ass but the hand to your waist kept you from falling. There was a pain in your ankle you hadn’t noticed when you first woke up. It was going to be a struggle to climb over the rough terrain with a bad ankle. 

“Are you okay?” Steve’s gaze was intense on yours.

“I’m, uh, well my ankle is messed up. I don’t think it’s broken though?” It came out more as a question.

Steve dropped down on a knee getting a closer look at your leg. You leaned on his shoulder for support.

“It’s probably just a sprain, but definitely not something you should be walking on in this area.” You figured as much. “I’ll just carry you down.”

You nodded. “Wait, what?” He turned in front of you, still crouched, but now his back was to you. “You want to give me a piggyback ride? Am I five?”

“Not with that mouth of yours.” He smirked. “This is the best option. If we get going now, we have a better chance of making it to any location with a phone before it starts getting dark.”

You sighed. He was right.

“Are you sure? I won’t be too heavy?”

“Blue.”

“Okay, okay.” You slowly positioned yourself over his back, your arms over his shoulders. As he stood, he gripped your thighs on either side of his waist, keeping you securely attached to him. “Thank you.”

“No problem, doll.”

You were glad he couldn’t see your face or you were sure he’d notice the redness forming on your cheeks from the nickname. 

Steve set off down the rocky side of the river, stepping over stones until he reached more level ground to set a steady pace. You were thankful he suggested carrying you, as much as you hate to admit it out loud. Not only were you exhausted, but even just the slightly jostling of your body from your current hike rubbed your back the wrong way. It was ridiculously sore, and if you thought about it too hard, you were sure your entire body would just be pain. You glanced at your injured hand over Steve’s shoulder, the large gash gory and reminiscent of B-list horror movies now covered by a strip of the material from Steve’s t-shirt. You wondered if it was going to get infected before you could get some help.

“Hey,” Steve gently squeezed your thigh, grabbing your attention. His head turned a bit toward yours. “What’s on your mind?”

“Just wondering if my whole body looks as bad as my hand. Or at least as bad as it feels.”

He grimaced. “I’m sorry you’re in so much pain, Blue.”

“It is what it is. I suppose it’s better than the alternative.”

“True.” He was quiet for a few paces. “I never thanked you for saving me back there.”

“Eh, it was nothing you wouldn’t have done. Besides, I couldn’t very well let you drown back there.”

“But still, I feel bad. I’m sure you could have avoided all the injuries if you hadn’t been stuck with me.” His eyes were downcast.

“Don’t know if you’ve realized this yet, but I don’t consider myself _stuck_ with you. Up until those dipshits at the general store, I was having a lovely time with my new friend.” You poked his cheek. The corner of his mouth lifted into a small smile.

“Same here, Blue.”   
  
  
  


* * *

  
  


You continued through the forest, keeping an eye on the river to your left. Your body felt stiff, but you had to deal with it until you could find help. You leaned more into Steve’s back, soaking in as much warmth as his body had to offer.

“So, ah...” Steve started, sounding conflicted.

“Hm?”

“What’s your real name? Feels kinda odd to only call you by a nickname when I don’t know your given one.”

“Ah, well… that’s the thing, Cap. I don’t really have one.”

“What do you mean?” His pace slowed.

“I mean, I’m sure I have one, but I don’t remember what it is. I haven’t since I woke up in a warehouse in Russia in 2011. That’s where Nat and Clint found me.” You sighed, closing your eyes. The scene played out in your mind. “I was sixteen or seventeen I think, at least that’s about the age the doctors at S.H.I.E.L.D. came up with. It was February, and so, so cold. I remember waking up to voices, quiet bickering that echoed in the space. When I finally opened my eyes, they were standing above me, wide-eyed. Which is fair, looking at it from their point of view, I would’ve thought I was dead too. 

“Lying on the concrete in an abandoned warehouse, with the bare minimum of clothing and a necklace… I remember my fingers were so cold, they were purple and I couldn’t move anything. When they,” you paused, your voice wavered. You hated thinking about this. “When they asked for my name, I couldn’t remember it. I couldn’t remember anything. Not how I got there, or where I was from. Nothing.” You sniffled, glad you couldn’t see his face.

“Oh, doll.” His thumbs rubbed circles on your thighs. 

“I think Clint felt bad for upsetting me. He gave me a nickname, _Blue Moon_. Said I could have a new name now, that my memory loss was probably temporary and just from the shock, and would most likely come back once I was warmed up and had calmed down.” You sighed. “It didn’t come back. Obviously, but I’ve accepted it. It’s been seven years and I turned out okay. Even pretended I was a badass with S.H.I.E.L.D. for a few years, so you know, could’ve been worse.” You chuckled, sounding weak even to your own ears.

“Well, you seem pretty great to me, Blue.” It sounded so sincere coming from his lips, even after only knowing him for a few hours.

“Thanks, Steve.” 

“Hey look at that.” Steve pointed up. “The sun finally decided to show itself.”

Sure enough, soft pale yellow rays were peaked through the leaves of the canopy. The light reflected off the water droplets that clung to the trees and leaves, making the whole forest glisten. 

It was beautiful.

  
  


* * *

  
  
  


“So jelly beans or gummy worms?” You asked at random. You were bored. As beautiful as nature was, this wasn’t a normal hike where you were mentally prepared to let your mind wander and keep everything peaceful. You needed to keep your mind from thinking too much on your situation.

“What?”

“What’s your preference: jelly beans or gummy worms?” Because even though you knew he was a national icon, the image of _the_ Captain America doing anything besides punching Nazis still seemed a little surreal to you. Even if that meant eating snacks meant for kids.

“Hm, I guess jelly beans?”

“Eh. I guess I can’t hold that against you. _You_ probably ate them as a kid.”

“Oh is that how’s it’s going to be?” He chuckled, the rumbling feel the rumbling in your chest.

“Yup.” You popped the ‘p’, grinning when he glanced back at you. 

“Well in that case, pretzels or popcorn?”

“Popcorn, duh. Pretzels are okay, I guess. But I prefer the giant soft ones to the crunchy snack-sized ones.”

“That’s fair.” He nodded.

“What’s the weirdest thing you’ve ever done for a mission?”

He thought it over.

“I went undercover with Nat and Barton once as Renaissance reenactors.” It was said so casually you almost missed his answer. 

“Really?!” You’d pay to see pictures of Natasha dressed in medieval clothing. 

“Oh yeah. Barton really made the whole ‘Robin Hood’ thing come to life.” You bet he did. “The clothes weren’t all that uncomfortable, but chainmail is awful.”

“With your broad chest and big arms, not to mention all that blonde hair, I bet you looked like a true knight and had all the maidens falling at your feet.”

“Yeah, well Romanoff got enough blackmail to last for years.” He shook his head, a smirk on his lips. 

“I’d love to see those.” And then a thought occurred to you. “Did Natasha wear a dress?”

“Leather pants and one of those corset vests.” 

“Of course she did.” She probably also carried around a sword and dueled anyone who belittled her. 

“It wasn’t the worst undercover mission I’ve been on.”

“What was?”

“Have you ever been stuck in a single room with Clint after a night of Mexican food and cheap tequila?”

You grimaced, because you had, and you wouldn’t wish that on anyone.  
  
  
  


* * *

  
  


Steve was quiet for a long time after that. There was clearly something on his mind but he had yet to say anything. You weren’t going to push him. The sun was directly above you now, warming your back, and with Steve’s heat on your front, a nap was starting to look a good option.

“Why a cabin?” Steve asked suddenly.

“Well, it wasn’t my first choice, but it’s nice out here. Quiet. Peaceful.” Not a lot to keep you looking over your shoulder.

“Haven’t you ever wanted to live in the city?” 

“I did the city life, for a couple years after I left S.H.I.E.L.D. A few months in the U.S., a few in Europe. London was nice, L.A. was too warm. I settled in Bucharest the longest though. I usually never stayed longer than a few months in a new place, but I spent six months there.” 

“What was different about Romania?” He was curious. You couldn’t blame him; you didn’t think you were going to stay there for long either.

“I met a friend.” More like a neighbor that you annoyed into companionship. “I met him at a little farmer’s market. My bag of plums broke, and he helped me with them. Looking back on it now, that was probably so out of his comfort zone. He always kept to himself and didn’t speak too much at first. He was perpetually grumpy.” That was an understatement.

“Yeah, I know someone like that.” He chuckled softly to himself.

“I called him “Sunshine” because of that. I think that was the first time I got more that a grimace out of him.” You missed your grumpy cat, but it’s been so long if you even saw him again, he probably wouldn’t even recognize you.

“Sounds like a decent enough guy. Why’d you leave?”

“One day I went by his apartment and he was gone. Disappeared without saying goodbye.” Not that you were super close, but it still hurt a bit. You laid your head on his shoulder. “After that, I was too paranoid to stay in the city by myself. I felt like someone was always watching me. Too many people, too many faces. So I called Clint and he said he had a place for me with a low population count and a beautiful view. And the rest is history.”

“You’ve been alone all this time?” He sounded shocked.

“Almost two years.” 

“Don’t you ever get lonely?”

Yes. You were notorious for spending too much time in your head and with no one to break up that isolation, it’s taken a toll on you. You longed for some company.

“Yeah, I suppose so. I miss hanging out with Clint and Tasha, but with as busy as your schedules get, it’s hard for them to get downtime to visit me for very long.” You missed cozy movie nights with an endless amount of pizza, and archery lessons even though you knew a bow and arrows weren’t your thing. You would deny it, but even sparring with Natasha was something you found yourself missing, even if she still knocked you on your ass more than half the time.

“Well, it’s settled then. You’re coming back with us officially, once we get out of here.” His tone was so confident, you couldn’t tell him no if you wanted.

“Sounds like a plan, Cap.”

“On one condition.”

“Shoot.”

“You’ve gotta start calling me Steve, doll.”

“Will do… Steve.” 

He stopped abruptly. 

“What’s wrong?” You mumbled, your eyes droopy where you rested your head.

“You weren’t lying…” he whispered. “That thing’s huge!” 

Your head popped up to look over his shoulder. Sure enough maybe two hundred feet in front of you, standing in the middle of a ray of sunlight, was a moose. Majestic as all hell, like he knew he owned the forest, with massive shoulders and wide, bold antlers.

"Should we… do we need to find a different way around?" Nervousness clear in his voice. 

"Nah, just give him a wide berth and go around. They're gentle if you stay clear of them." It wasn't your first encounter with a moose, several have stumbled upon your cabin, but most of the time they don’t want to be bothered. 

“You don’t see something like that in the city.” A childlike wonder graced his face.

“No, I suppose you don’t.”  
  
  
  


* * *

  
  


It felt like it’d been days since you’d seen a road or trail of any kind, when in actuality it had probably only been a few hours. You were starving, but ignoring your discomfort was becoming your new normal. With Steve's metabolism from the serum, you couldn't imagine how much worse off he was, so you couldn't complain. When you finally saw a trail sign directing you back to the nearest town, Steve picked up his pace. 

“Shouldn’t be too long now,” Steve said. You were sure he was tired of carrying you all this time, but he never mentioned it. He was too kind for that.

"Do you think Nat found a way to track us?”

"Did you doubt me, _zvezdochka_?" Natasha's silky voice may have spooked you, but Steve almost dropped you from how high he jumped. Natasha's gaze scanned your forms, taking stock of your injuries. She smirked. "You look terrible."

"It's good to see you too, Tash." You stuck your tongue out. "Tell me, does he always attract this much attention everywhere he goes?"

"Unfortunately, it isn't an uncommon occurrence." Natasha glanced at her watch, pressing a button before she spoke. "I found them. Heading to the clearing now. ETA twenty minutes. Medical assistance needed." 

Her voice was tight but she kept her cool demeanor in place, a facade of nonchalance. However, her small relieved smile said what she didn't.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Sorry this update is so late! My work schedule was shit last week so I was behind on editing and posting. So! I thought posting a little early would help make up for it, and it’s the longest so far? So...enjoy!

You woke up to murmured voices and mechanical beeps. You were in a bed in a very white room. You could only assume it was the infirmary of S.H.I.E.L.D. headquarters. Several IVs were attached to your arm. A woman with long dark hair in a bun and a white lab coat jotted something down on a clipboard beside you, then took her leave silently. Something was making your brain feel hazy. Your bets were on the strong antiseptics in the air, but it was more likely whatever pain meds they were feeding you. Your hand was bandaged now, your back probably was too for how tight it felt. You started to sit up in bed. **  
**

“You don’t want to do that, _zvezdochka_. With your luck, you’d probably pull all your stitches.” Natasha sat next to your bed in an uncomfortable chair, staring intensely at the screen of her tablet. She set it down on the small side table next to you, and pushed a button on a remote. Your bed shifted you into a seated position. She held a white cup with a straw to your lips. You drank greedily, the cool water soothing your dry throat. 

“How long...?” You croaked. 

“Only twenty-four hours. You lost a decent amount of blood but we got you back soon enough.”

Then why did it feel like you were laying on fire?

“Your back was practically shredded from the rocks.” Had you said that out loud? “You needed a few stitches but you’ll be fine. The boys should be back in a few minutes with snacks, if you’re hungry.”

You nodded. Or tried to; your neck was stiff. Natasha went back to her tablet, so you closed your eyes for a few more minutes before Steve and Sam’s voices echoed through the otherwise quiet space.

“Look who’s up. Miss Rough and Tumble.” Sam’s toothy grin lit up the room.

“How are you feeling, Blue?” Steve’s ocean eyes were filled with concern. He looked perfectly okay. As if he hadn’t almost drowned in an evil river. Stupid super soldier serum.

“Just peachy, Cap.”

“I thought we had a deal.”

“Sorry… _Steve_.” You smirked. Your stomach grumbled. Loudly. He chuckled and plopped the white paper bag he held on your lap. You opened it, smiling to yourself when you found a couple buttery croissants and one of those twisted glazed doughnuts. Natasha was giving away all of your secrets it seems. You chose a croissant, biting into the warm, flaky pastry. It was glorious.

“I see you still can't go very long without getting yourself into some kind of trouble," a familiar voice said. 

"Sorry, sir, I—" Steve started before you cut him off.

"To be fair, I was doing fine on my own until these hooligans showed up." You muttered, mouth full, lazily gesturing to Steve, Natasha, and Sam, who stared at you indignantly.

"Don't be like that, Baby Blue!"

Fury looked unimpressed. "Excuses are—"

“...just lies we tell ourselves to justify doing something poorly." You finished his phrase, then swallowed. "It's nice to see you too, Nick."

"Nick?" Sam gasped.

"What, did you think his name was just Fury?"

"He doesn't exactly like when anyone calls him that," Sam grumbled.

"Aww, Nick! I knew you were going soft on me." 

Fury grunted, but eventually relented and came over to pat your shoulder until you flinched at his touch.

"Heal up, Agent. We’ll talk about the incident when you’re standing on your own two feet again," he said as he walked to the door.

"Not an agent," you called after him.

"We'll see about that." He threw out.

You pouted. You knew it was unbecoming of you, but this is what you'd been dreading. You didn't want to come back to S.H.I.E.L.D. That time of your life turned out to be so traumatic you ended up in a cabin by yourself for two years. But the reality is, you knew he'd get his way in the end. He always did.  
  
  
  


* * *

  
  


As far as doctors went, Dr. Alexandra Marks was patient and kind, and clearly had years of experience dealing with agents that tended to make reappearances in her infirmary. She was thorough with her diagnostics and made sure to emphasize what you could, but more importantly could not, do while you were in the recovery phase. Stitches, a heavy dose of fluids, and an advanced topical solution to help “speed up cell production”, and you were patched together the best you could be. Supposedly, they had a machine that was designed to generate skin, called the Cradle. It could have prevented the scarring, but it was out of commission due to an update or something. To be honest, it sounded too much like a cross between a crazy science experiment and a magic trick. Just the thought made you wary. 

“While you’re still lucid, I need you to give me a report of what happened,” Natasha said after Dr. Marks and the boys left. She attached a keyboard to her tablet, pulling the kickstand out so the whole thing could rest on the bed tray. “It’s just better to do this while it’s still fresh in your mind.”

“Yeah, I know.” You frowned at the screen. Blips of the incident flashed through your mind. “Honestly, I’m not too sure what I actually remember. It feels like it’s all a blur.”

“Any little detail helps,” she pushed. “Anything at all.” 

Weren’t those guys just Hydra goons though? But if that were the case, then why did it feel like there’s something more to this?

“What aren’t you telling me?” 

Her face went through a series of micro-expressions that you would have missed had you not known to look for them.

“Is it not Hydra that came after us?”

“We don’t know. But… it doesn’t look like it at this point.” She sighed. “Just write the report for now.”

“Okay.”

So you did. Any little thing you could remember from the men to the river, you included in your retelling. For the most part, you didn’t remember the men standing out in any way more than they seemed out of place in the general store. The majority of the normal clientele wore flannels, sweatshirts, or thick hunting jackets. The sleek black jackets and black caps they’d been wearing made them stand out. That being said, everything was nondescript, no labels, no logos. Pretty generic bad guys if you were being honest. The only thing you could think of was the small tattoo on the side of one of their necks, but you hadn’t been close enough to see the actual design. 

Maybe that was just you being paranoid and projecting. The tattoo was probably just a tattoo. 

A couple hours later, Dr. Marks released you, with a promise that you wouldn’t do “anything unnecessary like your troublemaker friends.” You snickered at that. 

Natasha gave you a tour of what you now learned was the Avengers Compound in upstate New York. Apparently, S.H.I.E.L.D. has been running part of the agency out of the side buildings that were part of the campus since they re-established, while there was still a segment in D.C. She pointed out the different buildings and rooms during the brief tour, but you were distracted, rightfully so, by the sheer amount of agents that gave you judgemental stares the entire way to the main Avengers building. You steeled your nerves; you wouldn’t give them anything more before you could physically defend yourself.

You stepped into an elevator after Natasha, the smooth doors sliding silently shut behind you. You allowed your shoulders a break from the stiff, upright posture you’d taken.

“You alright?” Natasha asked.

“Yup.”

“Ignore them. The most fun the majority of them have is over rumors and gossip.” Natasha said. “F.R.I.D.A.Y., third floor please.”

“Of course, Agent Romanoff,” a voice responded from above.

“A.I.?” you questioned. Natasha nodded. 

“F.R.I.D.A.Y. is one of Tony’s creations. She’ll help you with anything you need.”

“Huh, well thanks in advance then, F.R.I.D.A.Y.”

“It’s my pleasure… I cannot find your identification in any system, miss. What shall I call you?”

“Oh, you can call me Blue?”

“Very well. Enjoy your stay, Blue.”

The doors opened, revealing a hallway that lead to the left and right of the elevator and seemingly wrapped around the perimeter of the building. In the center, you were able to look down over a common area of sorts, with a variety of couches, tables, an oversized TV, and a kitchen off to the side. Natasha turned to the right, passing several doors before she stopped.

“This is your room.”

The door in front of you was a glossy white with a biometric scanner to the side. 

“Put your hand to the scanner,” she said. You did. A blue light shone through your hand, then with a soft click, the door slid open. The room was bigger than you thought it’d be, but knowing who owned the building, you didn’t expect anything less. There was a plush bed on one side of the room, a desk with a swivel chair on the opposite wall. Tall windows allowed natural light in the space. A fluffy rug and long drapes helped make the room less cold and clinical. But that wasn’t what drew your attention the most. 

Draped across the bed was the plush purple blanket Clint had bought you when you were first brought back to headquarters. It was so, so soft. On top of that was your green duffle bag. It was the one thing you took with you everywhere. It stayed stocked and ready for if you needed to leave at short notice.

“Thank you, Natasha.” 

“Of course,” she nodded.

"No chance of me going back to the cabin, huh?" You asked. Because as lonely as it had been there, it was yours, for the most part, and had become your safe place.

She shook her head. "Sorry, Blue. It wasn't discovered yet, but now they've seen your face, they know you're in the area. We can't take that chance."

You knew that, of course. She only confirmed it.

“There’s an ensuite bathroom behind that door, and a walk-in closet next to it,” Natasha pointed out. “It’s not the cabin, but it’s a good place to stay. You’ll like it here,” You nodded. 

She pulled you into her arms, her hands holding you like she didn't want to let go. 

"You scared me, _zvezdochka_ ," she whispered into your hair. 

"I know. I’m sorry.” It was rare for her to show so much emotion. As long as you’d known her, Natasha had always kept her feelings hidden.

A cough at the door disrupted the mood. 

“What does a guy have to do to get the famous Widow to hold him like that?” The man leaned against the door frame, dressed in jeans and a vintage band t-shirt. It seemed far too casual for such a well-known billionaire.

Beside you, Natasha pulled away and rolled her eyes. Like a switch, her blasé facade was back in full force.

“Tony, this is Blue. Blue, Tony Stark,” she introduced.

“What kind of name is Blue?” 

“It’s a nickname,” you said.

“Uh huh.” He squinted at you. “And your real name would be?”

“Leave it alone, Stark,” Natasha growled.

“I just find it strange that not only is there no record of her in S.H.I.E.L.D.’s database, but I can’t find her anywhere. Not a name, a city, a school, medical record. Nothing.”

Natasha bristled. Her eyes were narrowed slits. “I said leave it alone, Stark. She’s a personal friend of mine and Barton’s. Leave it alone.”

Tony glared at Natasha for a moment before yielding. 

“Fine, but we’re talking about this later.” To you, he said, “Welcome to the compound, kid.”

He took his leave, and Natasha shook her head. 

“He doesn’t like when he doesn’t know everything about something or someone. Unfortunately, he will get his way eventually. He’s pushy, but it comes from a good place.”

“Don’t worry about me, Tasha. I can handle him. Besides, I am living under his roof for now, he has a right to know what he wants to know.” 

“Only if you want to.” She puts a hand to your shoulder, before she walks to the door. But his inquiry did make you wonder…

“Why isn’t there a SHIELD file for me, or at least _Agent M_?”

“It may have gotten...lost when I released the files to the public.” 

“You deleted mine instead of yours?” You remember she had a list of aliases, most from before she joined “the good guys.”

She shrugged. “It was time for a new chapter anyway.” She waved it off as if it meant nothing, but she risked her own neck so you could remain nameless.

“Thank you, _sestrenka_.” She was always looking out for you.

“Dinner is at six. You’ll meet most of the rest of the team then. Take a nap, you look like you need it.” She winked.

“Tell me the truth, how bad does it look?” You tilted your head, indicating your back.

“Eh, it’s just a few stitches.” With that, she left, copper curls bouncing behind her. And really you had no choice but to take a nap like she said. Especially when the bed looked that comfortable.  
  
  
  


* * *

  
  


Natasha lied. That was your only thought as you looked at your body in the mirror of your bathroom. It was not just a _few_ stitches. Forty-seven in total. You cringed as you read off the report FRIDAY supplied. Hearing it from Dr. Marks, and reading it off the report, hadn’t quite prepared you visually for the reality of your injuries. From what you could tell, your back was covered in black zig-zags, reminiscent of Frankenstein's monster. At least as much as you could see that peeked out from underneath the white bandages and gauze. Plum-colored splotches covered your body. In addition to your back, your right hand also received six stitches, and your sprained ankle was now wrapped. And there were bags under your eyes. You looked awful and felt like a walking bruise. 

“The meeting will be starting in fifteen minutes, Blue,” F.R.I.D.A.Y.’s voice startled you.

“Thanks.” You’d have to get used to never quite being alone alone. 

Dinner passed by pretty well the night before, by your standards at least. Tony had apologized for his aggressive questioning, with a nudge from Pepper Potts, however wary of you he may still be. That was alright for now. Steve and Sam had taken the initiative to make you feel included in the conversations, though you were more content to observe the people around you. You were introduced to Col. James Rhodes, who had a dry sense of humor and held himself like a military man, and Dr. Bruce Banner, whose alter ego was a stark contrast to the mild-tempered man that had sat beside you. By far, the most fascinating member you’d met was Vision, an android with an English accent who reminded you vaguely of a curious child. 

Now you were heading to a meeting Fury requested you attend. A loose-fitted tee and a pair of sweatpants and you were on your way out the door, wishing you’d had the forethought to have packed makeup in your duffle bag. While you never needed it on the mountain, it would have helped make you look marginally more presentable and less dead. Especially on the walk through the interconnected buildings to the conference room where you stuck out like a sore thumb. Maybe Natasha could take you out to pick some things up soon.

You cracked the door open. Eight _and a half_ pairs of eyes followed you to the empty seat next to Sam. You were the last one there. Of course. Fury stood at the head of the table, Maria Hill next to him, arms behind her back. She raised a perfectly sculpted eyebrow at you. Steve, Natasha, Tony, and three agents in uniform filled out the rest of the table. A projection screen behind Fury exhibited pictures of several men you didn’t recognize. 

“Now that we’re all here, let’s begin,” Fury said. He pointed between two of the five pictures on the screen. “These two men matched the facial recognition we were able to get off the cameras at the general store where the Captain and Agent M were first shot at, amongst civilians. There were no casualties in the store.”

You squinted. The men looked familiar now, especially without the hats to obstruct their faces. In the right image was the man you’d known to have the tattoo. Now that you could see it, on the left side of his neck, the small symbol looked like three triangles overlapping.

“They were found dead in their vehicle on the side of the road, SUV wrapped around a tree. This is confirmed with the reports Captain Rogers and Agent M gave upon arrival.” He pointed to the next two images. “These two were killed on sight by the extraction team in search of the Captain and Agent M.” He pointed to the last of the five head shots. “This last man was interrogated briefly by Agent Romanoff before he was terminated.”

“So were they Hydra agents from the mountain base?” Steve asked, confusion clear on his face.

“Not exactly,” Fury said.

“He wasn’t Hydra,” Natasha said. “He said Hydra was a group run by hot-headed leaders with imperfect ideals. He said what they were was bigger and better than Hydra could ever hope to be.”

“And who are‘they’?” Steve pressed.

Natasha shrugged. “He didn’t say, just that there were more of them and now that they had a ‘confirmation,’” she made quotes with her fingers, “they’d have all they needed soon enough to execute the program. He didn’t elaborate on what the program was or what exactly they’d confirmed. But before I could really press him for more, he killed himself. Cyanide tooth capsule.”

“Long story short, we’re led to believe these were not Hydra agents that tracked the two of you down. There were no markings on the body that would express allegiance to the group, nor did any declare their motto.”

“So what are you saying?” Sam questioned.

“I’m saying there is another organization who has at least one of the two of you as their target of interest and until we know who they are, you need to watch your backs.”

“No offense, sir,” one of the agents began. “But what would terrorist organization want with her?” She was pretty, blonde, and had an intense look about her. She wasn’t outright rude, she had a point at least; you’ve basically been in isolation for two years. Besides, she had to be more than capable to be in this room to begin with; that didn’t mean her comment didn’t irk you. You pushed down the urge to get defensive, and schooled your face into a neutral mask.

Simultaneously, all eyes were on you.

“At the moment we’re not quite sure,” Fury admitted. “Agent M’s official history within S.H.I.E.L.D. is otherwise non-existent as far as the database is concerned. However, that doesn’t mean no one would recognize her if they worked under S.H.I.E.L.D. before the disbanding.”

“You think this group is a bunch of ex-S.H.I.E.L.D., ex-Hydra rogue agents?” Steve interjected.

“Anything is possible,” Fury said. “For now, it’s best to assume Rogers was the target and Agent M was just an additional person of interest by proxy.” 

“Keep your eyes and ears open for anything that could be related to this organization.” Maria advised. “If there really is another large-scale terrorist group among us, it’d be best to nip it in the bud as soon as possible.”

After the briefing, Fury held you back, as most of the others left the room. Maria relaxed by his side, her shoulders not quite as taut.

“You’re reinstated as an active agent, effective immediately, Agent M.” Fury held your gaze with his good eye. 

“I never said I wanted to come back to S.H.I.E.L.D.. In fact, I distinctly remember telling you I never wanted to be put in that situation again.” You glared back. The fingers on your left hand dug into your palm.

“We all have to do things we don’t want to do.” His large hand cupped your shoulder. “Just because you run away from something, doesn’t mean it goes away. You are good at what you do, and I refuse to let you waste your skills anymore.”

“But I—” He cut you off. 

“You’re not the only one who’s lost someone, Blue.”

He rarely called you by your nickname. It was always ‘Agent.’ You sighed. As difficult as Fury has always been, he’d never given you bad advice. He was the one who fought for you to stay and train to be a S.H.I.E.L.D. agent in the first place all those years ago. 

And yeah, maybe he was a tad softer on you than on the others. You’d seen him as a father figure of sorts. If he thought you should be reinstated and otherwise get your head out of your ass, then you really couldn’t argue.

“Fine.”

“I knew you’d see it my way.” Fury smirked, patting your shoulder twice heading towards the door. “As soon as you’re cleared for it, you’ll start training. Rest up. This little incident tells me you’ve lost your touch.”  
  
  


* * *

  
  
You sat on a couch in the common room a week later, skimming through the data, searching for anything you could connect to an unknown terrorist group. Without a name, it was hard to even associate what little frays you did find, and you were led to dead end after dead end. You set the laptop on the seat beside you and pressed the heels of your palms to your eyes. You looked to your Stark-issued phone for the time. It was well past midnight. This wasn’t the first time you’d been unable to sleep this week due to your mind racing about the implications of an unknown group trying to bring devastation for whatever reason they’ve deemed justifiable. The bad feeling in your gut only intensified the more frustrated you got at the lack of information. You really wanted to punch something, but you weren’t cleared to do more than brisk walking, lest you pull a stitch and elongate your recovery period.

You went to the kitchen and poured yourself some water. The cool liquid did nothing to soothe your restlessness. So instead, you paced the halls, a habit you picked up since you arrived. You passed the entryway to the lab. More specifically, Tony and Bruce’s lab. The other common occurrence you’d noticed every night were the lights in the lab always being on this late in the night. It seemed like Bruce usually went to bed early in the evening, preferring to start his day earlier than most. Which left Tony as the only possible night owl. 

You hesitated by the door before pulling it open and wandering through the cool-toned lights in the lab. Classic rock played softly through the speakers. Tony stood at table at the far end of the room, back hunched over. He was poking at something that caused small sparks to shoot from the device. His masked face was probably still too close to the object. 

You pulled out a stool from a neighboring table smoothly, just enough to make some noise, not enough to startle him. The masked tilted up, then focused once again on the task at hand.

“Not asleep, _Agent M_?” He said with an ever-so-slight sneer.

“You can call me Blue, you know.” Tony hadn’t warmed up to you like you’d hoped in the past week. He’d been distant, always in the lab. Natasha assured you that was normal for him though, so you took her word for it. 

“Do I know that?” He snipped. He worked in silence for a few moments, then he put down his tools and flipped up his mask. His eyes were rimmed in red, most likely from exhaustion. “You know, I just find it odd that everything was all fine and dandy until Rogers and Co took a trip to Washington State. Now there’s a new terrorist organization we have to look out for, and you show up with no official identity in any database on the planet, and one word from Fury and we’re supposed to just be okay with that? I’m not exactly a big believer of coincidences.”

“Just ask what you want to know, Stark. I don’t want to always feel like I’m tip-toeing around you.” Because it was annoying. 

“What’s your history with S.H.I.E.L.D.?” 

“Natasha and Clint were on a mission, found me as a teen in an abandoned warehouse. Brought me back to S.H.I.E.L.D.. I was an agent for three years.”

“What made you leave?” His gaze shifted elsewhere.

“Bad mission. I lost people I cared about.” His eyes found yours. “And with Hydra discovered inside the agency and S.H.I.E.L.D. dissolving, I just got out while I could.”

He was quiet for a long time. Absently, you twirled a random screw between your fingers.

“Tell me about the mission.”

You squeezed your eyes closed, sighing deeply. You recalled your worst nightmare like it was yesterday. You opened your mouth to begin when he put a hand up.

“Sorry. You don’t need to tell me.” He waved you away. “I can be insensitive when I’m tired.”

“It’s alright, I understand. Long story short, it went really, really wrong, and I couldn’t handle it anymore. I was young-”

“You’re still young, kid,” he quipped.

“-and I already couldn’t remember my past. Losing people, people I was especially close to, was too much.” Your breath shuddered. “I didn’t want to have to go through that again, so I left. Fury kept tabs on me, same with Natasha and Clint. But I swore I wasn’t going to be an agent anymore.”

“And now, here you are.”

“Here I am.”

Tony nodded. He got up unexpectedly, shuffling over to a hidden cupboard that housed a coffee maker. He came back with two mugs, steam spirals swirled in the air. You took a sip. Minty.

“It’s a peppermint blend. Some candy cane Christmas bullshit I got in a ‘thank you’ basket over the holiday. It’s barely coffee, not even caffeinated, but it tastes nice. Supposed to help clear the mind or something.”

You shrugged. Because it was good.

“So… you don’t remember your past?”

“I don’t even remember my name.”

“That must be tough.”

“Mhm,” you agreed.

“Listen, I’m sorry for the rough start. Genuinely. I spend so much of my time trying to do the best to defend against the bad, that I sometimes jump to conclusions and can be…”

“Overly suspicious?” You supplied.

“Yeah.”

“No worries, Stark…”

“Tony.”

“Tony,” you smiled. “I would have thought the same thing. I mean hell, I almost embedded a knife in Captain America’s head when I first met him.”

“I want to do that sometimes and I’ve known him for years.” He chuckled into his mug.

“So we’re good?” You didn’t want to just assume. A heart to heart doesn’t always form a friendship, but at least maybe you’d be on good terms now.

“We’re good, kid.” He smiled, a genuine grin on his lips. “Come on, you can help me test this new version of my gauntlets.”

Huh. Maybe you were wrong.  
  
  


* * *

  
  


Another week passed before you were cleared for active duty. The scarring was… definitely there. Harsh, red lines spider-webbed around your back. Apparently, it healed faster than Dr. Marks anticipated, especially without the cradle. She seemed convinced the shorter recovery time meant there was a high chance the scarring would fade quickly as well. You weren’t exactly a vain person, but it didn’t look pretty as of now. At least you could cover it up easily. 

You were placed into a random group of S.H.I.E.L.D. agents, Group C apparently, and were given a schedule that listed off times for hand-to-hand combat training, weight training, endurance training, and shooting practice. You were convinced Steve loved to see you and the other recruits suffer as he pushed you all to run the laps of the course around the compound. The first day, you were dead after three miles, collapsing on the ground when the muscles in your legs gave up and lying on gravel sounded like a better idea. Steve only ordered you to get up and run again. You might have grumbled something about seeing if you’d ever save his life again.

Now you were able to keep up with the group. You found it a necessity, as you’d overheard in the locker room how they didn’t like you because you were “definitely sleeping with the Captain” or why else would you be there. You’d caught a stink eye more than once, and decided you had to push harder and tune them out. The chatter was useless. You knew the truth, so their opinions didn’t matter, but you didn’t want Steve to be accused of favoritism. He didn’t deserve any unnecessary backlash. 

By far, Natasha was thrilled to have you in training again. 

“You’re having too much fun with this Natasha,” you groaned from the mat. 

You were constantly being thrown by her, taunted that you’d lost your reflexes from being out of practice. You always ended up sore and bruised after a session. The snickers of the other agents really pissed you off, but you couldn’t exactly bite their heads off. Plus, even when you were in your best shape, you weren’t always able to out-Natasha Natasha; you’d only done it a few times. You knew first hand the rest of the agents in the room couldn’t do that. And you’d out-fought enough of them to know that.

“You’re making it easy on me,” she pulled you to your feet. “Maybe you should practice with someone with a little less agility for now?” She tilted her head to Sam, who’d over heard as he sauntered in and pulled a bitch face at her.

“Oh that’s low, girl. Real low.” But he joined you on the mat anyway.

Sam’s strikes were powerful and quick, like a boxer. He shuffled his feet, throwing punches at varying intervals. You dodged and blocked what you could. He got in a few hits before you picked up his pattern. That was the problem with most people in hand-to-hand. The body naturally wants to move in a rhythm, just like in running, but it’s too predictable in fighting, which is one of the reasons it was so hard to fight Natasha. She was slippery as a snake and it was hard to anticipate her next moves at the speed she moved.

You swung your arm out, your fist clipping him in his unprotected ribs, jumping out of range after. He stumbled back. You took the opportunity to rush him, diving low last minute to the space beneath his legs. You half-turned in your crouch and kicked your leg out, knocking him off balance and crashing into the mat. Finally.

“Adequate,” Natasha complimented. “But I’ve seen you do better. That was sloppy.”

You nodded, panting. She was right, but you’d take then win. It would take you a while to get back to what your skills had been, but even you had to admit. The ache of your abused muscles was actually rather nostalgic.  
  
  


* * *

  
  


It was well after dinner when a knock at your door had you sitting up, causing the ice packs to tumble off your body. You sighed.

“Come in!”

Natasha stepped in, eyeing the ice packs. 

“Have we been too rough on you?” She teased. You didn’t take the bait.

“Nah. Just not used to it yet.”

Natasha nodded. “Just wanted to let you know Clint and the others are almost here. The quinjet should be landing in five, if you want to join us.”

“Of course.” You stumbled off the bed, and slipped your shoes on as you followed her to the hangar.

The hangar was cleaner than you would have thought. Relatively spotless and spacious. You and Natasha joined Steve, Sam, and Vision by the marker number 1 just as the rumble of an engine made the quinjet known. The noise echoed loudly in the space as the jet landed smoothly in its spot. The engines cut off, and with the high-pitched whir of the propellers winding down. The door opened down into a ramp. At first, no one came down, then there was a stumbling, mummy racing down the ramp toward you. Clint scooped you up into his arms, twirling you around, rambling a mile a minute.

“I thought Tasha was messing with me when she said you were here!” He was shouting in your ear, but you couldn’t get a word in edgewise. “When did you get here? How long are you staying? Wait! Are you back for real?”

“Barton, I’m pretty sure she can’t breathe.” Natasha’s voice cut through his excitement.

“Oh, right.” He plopped you down. You staggered before you caught yourself.

“It’s good to see you too, Robin Hood.” 

His eyes flitted over you, not overlooking the bruises from training this week.

“Geeze, you look awful. What happened?” 

“What is with the two of you?” You looked between him and Natasha. “You can’t just tell people they look awful when they’ve been beaten up. Besides, you’re one to talk,” you sassed. Clint was covered in butterfly bandages and deep purple bruises. “Can’t you go on one mission without coming back like you belong under a pyramid?”

“‘S not my fault.” Clint scratched the back of his neck. You stared at him pointedly. “Well, not all my fault.”

“Some things never change.” You grinned.

“Blue, this is Wanda Maximoff.” Natasha held her hand out to a girl around your age, with long auburn hair and sparkling green eyes. She looked at you hesitantly.

“Hi, I’m Blue.” You did a little wave, then immediately regretted it for how dumb you probably looked. 

“It’s nice to meet you.” She enveloped you in strong arms. She had an accent you couldn’t place, but it wasn’t so thick you couldn’t understand her. “I’ve heard quite a bit about you from Natasha and Clint. It’s nice to match the face with the name.”

You smiled, because she seemed very sweet. You could already see yourself being friends with her. You noticed Vision hovering just behind her, and when she pulled away, her hand reached back to find his. That was cute. You also now had questions, but that was for another time. You certainly weren’t close enough to just ask anyway.

Behind you, Steve was embracing a man with shoulder-length brown hair. He looked just as built and strong as Steve, maybe an inch shorter in height. Steve’s eyes were closed, his lips were moving, speaking too low for you to hear. The intimacy of their moment had you assuming they were more than friends. Definitely together. You wondered if the public had that knowledge, but it was more than likely not. The media would probably have a field day with that info.

Steve opened his eyes, meeting yours with a smile before he stepped back and called out to you.

“Hey Blue! Come over here and meet Bucky!”

His companion turned around and the breath caught in your throat. You did a double take. After all these years, you never thought you’d see him again. Maybe you’d dreamed you’d find your long lost friend, hoping that you both hadn’t changed too much to pass each other on the street someday without realizing. But you would recognize those eyes anywhere. 

Before you could open your mouth, he spoke. 

_“Ingeras?”  
_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Just now realized I haven’t given any translations for words so far, but I will from now on!
> 
> zvezdochka (Russian) - little star  
> sestrenka (Russian) - sister, sis  
> ingeras (Romanian) - angel

**Author's Note:**

> Gonna try to post every Thursday or Friday, so fingers crossed I can actually stick to that schedule. Let me know what you think so far! I love comments in general so thanks in advance! :)
> 
> Come talk to me on [Tumblr! ](http://deamstellarus.tumblr.com/)
> 
> Also sadly, I do not own Marvel nor do I own any of the Marvel characters. Obviously.


End file.
